The RAW Blog

{Dear Diary} Get Me the Whole Entirety of the Fuck Out of Here

As much as I’d like to believe what people tell me, I can’t. I’ve been told that its okay to still live at home. People justify this argument with facts and data about the economy, college graduates, their debt and a bunch of other numbers that somehow add up to equal living at home post graduation isn’t the taboo terror that I see it as.

Well I’m sorry it is bad.

It’s fucking terrible. Mostly because of the gigantic ass that I live with. I KNOW first hand, it’s not so much where you live but who you live with that makes all the difference in the world. In Atlanta I had a beautiful apartment with a beautiful view and for the most part I enjoyed that apartment. That is, until my roommate morphed into a psychotic lying bitch. Then those same gorgeous and spacious rooms and halls became a hideous, cramped jail. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to avoid her as much as she hated me. Alternatively, the damn near condemned house I found myself in after life took a turn was one of the best experiences of my life. The house was filthy and structurally unkempt but I had some of the nicest most interesting house mates.

Those experiences allow me to disect the issue I’m having here and get to the heart of the problem: I can’t live with niggas who think they know it all because only niggas who ain’t shit think they know everything.

Awhile ago I posted about being disgusted with one of my friends because he said he had no interest in traveling and I felt like he was settling and not really doing anything with his life. Well that’s how I feel about the idiot I’m living with. Day in and day out he’s sitting at home on Twitter and Facebook INCESSANTLY. When you ask him if he’s looking for a job he swears up and down he is. Dear sir, who the fuck do you think you’re fooling? I can see your minute by minute updates on BOTH sites! When are you job hunting? Oh when you leave the house at 5pm? Right. I’m supposed to believe that?

Believe it or not I really wouldn’t have a problem with his ‘ain’t shit-ness’ if he didn’t have such strong and definitive opinions about what everyone else is and isn’t doing. How do you have the audacity to even fix your lips to tell someone what they are doing is stupid, dumb or wrong and you aren’t doing anything. You’re not even offering a viable alternative because when I say you’re not doing anything I MEAN you’re not doing anything —- you’re not even thinking, you’re just talking shit.

I would like to be able to say aside from this one jackass living at home isn’t that bad, alas I cannot.

Anyone who has had the opportunity and responsibility of really living on their own then having to move back in with the folks can attest to this next claim: It is hard to live with someone else’s rules once you gone out and created your own. It is more than a notion to get back in the hang of checking in, coming and going at times someone else deems acceptable, considering people you live with when you’re making plans, etc.

I’m not one to break a lot of rules when it comes to my mom and her house so there are things I’d like to do but I can’t because I live in HER house. Obviously the first thing is sex. I’m not fucking anyone in the room right next to hers, whether she home or not. Can’t do it. It’s weird and disrespectful. Additionally, I’m not having a bunch of people over either. This ISN’T MY HOUSE. I’m not paying bills, buying groceries (okay well I do when I can but still they’re not all for me other people have to survive off of them too) or really providing any of the amenities that will inevitably be used when a person has guests at their home.

In addition to the things I can’t and won’t do, there are things I’m asked to do that irk me. My time is volunteered for no other reason than I’m her child and I live in her house. I’d rather not go into too much detail with that because everybody can relate to that. If you have a special advantage (like height) or skill (like sewing) inevitably you’re going to be getting things off tall shelves and making throw pillows because she wants to change the feel of the house. Its just how the mother/child relationship works.

All of that being said it is nice to not have to worry about bills or fixing things or finding someone to fix things and all of those other things that come with the responsibility of living alone but I’m ready to take that stuff on. I’ve done this for over a year now. I’m not that little kid who could give a rats ass about hanging out because me and my crayons are all I need. Sorry not me anymore. I need my space and the space I need is more than an 11”x13” room next to my mom.

So sweet dear golden baby Jesus and 2012 puh-leeeeez get me the WHOLE entirety of the fuck out of here.